Hazel Potter
by bunnies-of-plotting
Summary: Hazel Potter. The Girl-Who-Lived, known as a laidback, kind girl. Lorita Ysabel. A main figure to the underground of Spain. Alice Viatrix. Bubbly but bad all-time crook in Scotland. Common factor? They're the same girl.


I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!

Three. Three women whose very being could change a person's familial, stone-hard belief into utter nonsense should they wish it, three women who could alter the course of any war, and three women whose faces could send off a thousand ships, it has been said.

But what happens when those three women, were actually only one?

(Note; T.P.L=Third-Person-Limited)

xXx

_(T.P.L-Dean)_

Her unruly black hair was everywhere, looking like she just rolled out of bed. Considering her lethargic eyes and lazy grin, it wasn't too hard to imagine. _'Or perhaps a good shag,_', Dean thought as he watched her, the subtle sway to her generous hips as she made her way towards Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, who had Lavender hanging off his arm.

"Mate, are you staring at her again?", Seamus' amused voice cut through the dark-skinned boy's thoughts as he reluctantly tore his eyes away from where his eyes wandered down to her plump arse to his hazel-eyed friend. The word 'hazel' made his eyes glance back at the Girl-Who-Lived again, as she let out a throaty laugh that made his eyes glaze over. "Oi!", his friend snapped his fingers in front of his fellow sixteen year-old, making him startle. "You could just ask her out."

"I'm dating Ginny.", Dean responded immediately. The Irishman laughed heartily.

"Not like you like her anyways!", he barked with humor. Dean did not contest his friend's words, instead going back to watching the pretty green-eyed deity known as Hazel Potter. "How long you been watching her now,", his friend mused, "Two, three years?", Dean held up three in confirmation. "You better make your move quick, mate,", the blond said with a wolfish grin, "Lest _Snape_ get to 'er!", he shuddered in revulsion at those words. It was an unspoken but known thing; the Potions' Master was fond of the girl. She was a _Gryffindor_ and he did speak not a scathing word to her nor any stinging insults as her potions were always meticulously perfect. She had taken to the subject like a bird to flying. _'Perhaps a sweet white dove,'_, Dean eyed her milky-colored skin, unblemished despite it being the notorious 'break-out'-stage of life. Perhaps the intense, unending magic she had contributed to that. _'Or a fierce bird-of-prey,'_, his mind wandered towards the few times he'd been privy to seeing her on a broom. She had done a twisting, bullet-like plummet headfirst, clutching the horrid school broom, the first flying class.

He had learned then to pay attention to her, no matter what others said or thought. In the time he watched, he began to develop feelings. First it was like a friend, growing as he watched her and therefore learned things even the other two of the Golden-Trio didn't know. Then, three years ago, he began drawing her. They were only thirteen at the time, and he would draw her perfect, cherubic face, her wild hair around. Seamus saw one as he was putting one with the others he stashed between his mattress. Next night, what do you know, he was grinning looking at Dean's pictures of her. Dean recalls that day _very_ vividly. Seamus was staring at the first picture he had drawn of her full body naked, something he had been very embarrassed about. He hadn't talked to the Irishman for a week after that. They were thirteen at the time.

"Hey Dean, Seamus!", the dove/bird-of-prey called to them, "You two coming?", Dean stood immediately, shooting her a smile. Seamus snickered as he followed the tall boy's example, idly strolling over as Ginny finally came down. Her skirt was too short to be decent, her button-up unbuttoned enough to show what little cleavage she had on her petite body. Dean resisted the wince as she soon clung to his arm. He doubted Hazel was like this. No, she would be more friendly, less girly, more mellow…

xXx

_(POV-Draco)_

I watched the door, waiting to see the girl I was waiting to see: Potter. Soon enough, she came in, that ignorant mudblood _Thomas_ watching her with that _sickening_ affection and worship. As if Potter would ever notice an unimportant little _stalker_ like him. My eyes went back to the enticing figure of the girl my thoughts were usually set upon. She was always so calm and laidback…How does she do it?

I used to feel a spark of envy for that. How she could have that worldly look in those lovely eyes of hers..? Yes, I admit she is beautiful in flesh. But in spirit, she is utterly awe-inspiring, indescribable. But no one may have her, myself included. To sully her with these hands of mine is a (as the mudbloods say) sin I would not dare to touch upon. She is too precious for that.

"Oh, how could thoust be so punishing as to shake my love from thine very heart, so cold and cruel?", that halfblood Finnegan was _flirting_ with her! I felt my lips go up in a snarl.

"Oh, but you know my heart calls for another, beats for my one true love, valiant knight!", she touched her delicate wrist to her forehead, shielded from view by her messy raven locks, that always struck me as ravenous, looking as though they were clawing at the air. "I cannot betray him, even if he is not mine! Oh, woe to my wretched heart, undeserving of his love!", she said with a dramatic, mournful moan. The group around her, _surrounding_ her, laughed loudly. She peeks open an eye and gives a signature lazy grin. "Dost thine laugh at my miseries and this poor wretched heart! Oh cruelty! Oh, of nature's whims be it so! My own companions take their joy in my sorrow!", she let out a rather convincing sob, "Oh, poor heart mine, so cruelly embraced within Eros' wings and shown to one I may never have! What malice, what spite! Have you no compassion for one such as I, or dost thine represent that which I never may have? Such horror, such brutality!"

"Oh, fair Lady, be not sad by your heart's intent,", the bloodtraitor Weasel grinned, "Tell us, will thy not, who it is you do desire, and be it in our power, we shall seek the end of the worlds to please you, oh fascinating, oh gentle Queen!"

"Shall my loyal do so for mine own heart! Oh, what have I that I may be sanctified with such faithful ones to my very own passion! What, valiant! What, dauntless and noble!", she cried to them as she near fell into the arms of her mudblood pet know-it-all.

"Oh, oh! Dost thine see what thou have done to our Ladybird! Our lamb! Precious child!", she wailed, holding the 'swooned' girl in her arms. "Such emotion is too strong for her _frail_ heart, already weak with despair over that which the man she loves with her heart so true!", by now, almost everyone in the hall was watching them, and I noticed Flitwick (_half-breed_, though his skill _is_ rather extraordinary…For an impure _beast_, Goblin-blood in him no matter how small the amount) was watching them with growing excitement.

"Can thou not see her, in her beauty?", Finnegan asked them dramatically, "There is not a man on this earth that can resist such a creature, so fae and ethereal as her! One called as a Queen of the Mound of Fae! Such charm! Such compassion!", he kneeled in an entirely overdramatic way, spreading out his arms, "Is there any other as her roaming this earth? That is the only reason that her heart of hearts, her keeper, would not want her so, even still, there is no one like our Queen!", he declared, and the groups made an agreement of hearty 'Aye!', "Long live our fortuitous, instinctual Queen!", they repeated the line as some of the people in the hall burst in applaud. Potter stood with a grin as they all bowed, taking their seats in Gryffindor. Yes, the 'Queen of the Jungle', (apparently it has some muggle thing to do with King of the Jungle which is _preposterous_-lions do _not_ live in the jungle. They live along plains, especially prominent in Africa and other such countries,) is what Hazel Potter is personally known as here in Hogwarts, aside from her title of Girl-Who-Lived.

Placing my head on my entwined fingers, I watched her joke and play with the others she entered with as Flitwick came scurrying to them, squeaking in his usual way. What was he doing now? After a few moments of talking, Hazel smiled. It wasn't one of her usual lethargic ones either. It was a curl of the lips that indicated she was genuinely content with something. It was innocent.

Painfully so, in fact.

xXx

_(T.P.L- Ginny)_

"We're gonna make a play for us and others to sort out?", Ron asked uneasily.

"Oh, come on, it can be like our improvs.", Ginny coaxed her older brother, sitting next to Hazel with linked arms and Hermione on the Queen's other side, also linked. "How fun! Right Dean?", she asked her boyfriend with a bright, toothy grin. He nodded vacantly, staring at where Hazel sat next to her. Ginny paid it no mind, thinking he was looking past her to the Slytherin table. Nasty _Slytherins_. Never did like the slimy bunch…Especially _Malfoy!_ The prat who wouldn't leave her poor Hazel alone! Incensed by the mere thought, the younger freckled girl turned her head over her shoulder to glare scathingly at them. A few noticed and sneered right back at her. Draco _fucking_ Malfoy, however, smirked at her before looking pointedly at Hazel. With a silent snarl, her wand was in her hand, hidden by the folds of Hazel's baggy dress-shirt thing that muggles apparently wore. Her infamous Bat-Bogey hex was sent whizzing at him.

Soon everyone was laughing or gasping in horror (it was a well-known 'secret' that Malfoy was Snape's godson after all,) at the sight and the Potions' Master was stalking-er, billowing down to where he sat to undo the curse and bark at the students. He then sent a 'You're In Trouble Now, You Little _Brat'_ (as named by Hazel, who names all his different glares, something he had actually smirked at when she made a journal of her findings on the matter and made copies for all her yearmates-and one for Ginny and Luna) directly at her but she remained defiant and he sneered nastily at her. Before his eyes lost all negativity and became blank. Ginny glanced beside her, where he was staring. Sure enough, Hazel was looking over and staring at the older black-haired male with an amused, quirked eyebrow.

"Hazel? Do you think he'll be nice today?", Ginny asked pleadingly. Hazel gave her friend a sadistically entertained look before smirking at the professor triumphantly.

"Not a chance, Gin-Gin.", she teased lightly. "Too bad you didn't turn Malfoy back into a ferret.", the ones around all snickered remembering the incident. "He was almost _cute_ like that,", she sighed wistfully, "He couldn't _talk_ after all.", they dissolved into laughter. Ginny blushed harshly, mumbling under her breath as she tugged at a wayward lock of ebony. Hazel smiled sweetly at her, feigning complete innocence.

"You're mean!"

"Me? Am I? Dean, am I mean?", she asked the boy with wide, innocent eyes and he froze, eyes going wide as a blush formed under his chocolate skin. He shook his head quickly. Hazel smiled to her friend again, "You see? Dean wouldn't lie. And _he_ says I'm not mean."

"Yeah well Dean's never had a sleepover with you…", Ginny grumbled as Dean's eyes went far away until Seamus snickered and elbowed him.

xXx

(Alirico Demetrio's T.P.L)

"Ah, where have you been, mi Reyna?", the older teen asked as he sensually kissed up her arm. The woman allowed it, watching him calmly from behind her custom deep red fan. "I missed you.", he gently moved the fan away to kiss at her plush stained-red lips and rather fiery kisses were shared before he deepened it, pressing her back against the wall of the ruins. Her nearly-mocha skin, a testament to her upbringing here in Spain (he was very _proud_ of his country) was silky-soft to the touch, and she tipped her head back as he languidly made his way down her throat to the sleeveless heart-top of her deep, plum-purple dress that showed off her very generous bosom that he doted on as he pulled it down with his teeth. The slit down the side of the clinging dress was put to use as a deeply tanned, smooth and sinfully long leg came up to wrap around his hips, one of the only indications she was enjoying herself with him. He continued to love her physically, until the first pop of apparation came in, whereas he looked back over his shoulder to see who it was. "Remigio.", he greeted in a clipped tone as the larger man came in, looking at him with cool eyes bordering on cold as he took in their positions.

"Demetrio.", he rumbled, moving forward with a slow, deadly grace. His eyes then strayed to the nearly emotionless teen under his hands. He bowed low at the waist while greeting her. "Lorita,", he used her first name with a slightly adoring tone on his lips that Alirico disliked immensely. He hated the man for admiring her and being her second-in-command rather than him. But he, grudgingly mind you, knew that he was much better with all her plans and general cruelty and indifference to bloodshed and violence. He actually _looked up_ to her for it. For that, he hated the man almost as much as he loved Lorita Ysabel. _Almost_.

"How is your task coming, Julio?", she spoke and he momentarily became dazed. Her voice was low and smooth, hypnotic to a point that she rarely spoke because people heard her, oh yes they did, but couldn't hear the words themselves. His look of rapture though made him furious, as it always did.

"It goes well, mi Reyna,", he breathed as she unhooked her leg, causing his jealousy to flare up that this man would make his time of loving her come to an abrupt halt for the moment. "The Quasimodos are becoming more _receptive_ to your ideas.", his eyes watched her keenly as she swayed her hips gently as she made her way to him, top still down and giving him quite the view that he reveled in as she came close enough to touch. He pulled the dress up, as her second, her right-hand, he did all sorts of things for her, including dressing her if she was less than decently covered. More than willingly. "He brushed his strong hands up to her collarbone, over to her shoulders and then down her arms to hold onto her hands gently, entwining one hand while bringing up the one holding her now-closed fan to kiss at. She nodded imperially and he let go, bowing once more as he stepped back. "Soon we shall be moving on to the rest of Europe to slowly take as our own, as it should be."

"Very good.", then she looked up with eyes covered by her veil to the moon. "I must take leave.", she murmured.

_**~XxX~**_

Hazel Potter. Lorita Ysabel. The next personality will be found out next chapter.


End file.
